Korval's Game by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

lifemate is a lady of intelligence, wit, and courage. How else could it be, but that her melant’i supports and enhances my own? And together—” He slipped his hand under her chin and tipped her face so she could see the bright green eyes, awash in mischief. “ Together , cha’trez, we are—” he bent his head, put his mouth next to her ear and breathed “— hell on wheels .”
    “You—” She laughed and hugged him hard before stepping away and taking his hand. “All right, let’s go meet the family.”
    She stopped him at the hall door, though, struck by one more detail.
    “We gonna let on I don’t know your family from sliced bread? I don’t think even tel’Vosti’d like a lifemating where I ain’t met your First Speaker, much less you got her permission.”
    “A valid point,” Val Con murmured and tipped his head, staring hard at nothing, with his brows pulled slightly together.
    “Line yos’Phelium,” he said after a bit, “presently includes Kareen, my father’s sister; her son Pat Rin, and his heir, Quin. My father is Daav yos’Phelium, who is eklykt’i. His lifemate, my mother, was Aelliana Caylon. She is dead. I was fostered into the household of my father’s cha’leket, Er Thom yos’Galan, and his lifemate, Anne Davis. They, also, have died. Shan is Lord yos’Galan, Nova is First Speaker, Anthora is—Anthora.” He paused.
    “yos’Galan children are Padi, who is Shan’s heir, and Syl Vor, who is Nova’s. Korval’s seat is Jelaza Kazone; yos’Galan’s Line House is Trealla Fantrol. We are located to the north of Solcintra City. The ship of which Shan is captain and master trader is Dutiful Passage .”
    Miri considered him. “That’s it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Nothing else?” she persisted. “I don’t wanna trip up.”
    “This should be sufficient to see us through dinner,” Val Con said softly. “It is scarcely to be expected that a new bride will have complete intimacy of her lifemate’s clan.”
    “Great.” She shook her head as he opened the door and bowed her through ahead of him. “All right, Liaden. Just remember—it’s your neck we’re gambling with.”
    ***
    She’d never seen so many redheads in one place.
    The reception room was jammed with them, male and female; old, young and in-between, with hair shading from the lightest strawberry blonde through orange, mere-red, auburn and a particularly striking mahogany.
    Hand resting on Val Con’s arm, Miri considered the crowd, noting the eyes that slid toward them and slid away—and also something else.
    “You’re tall !” she blurted, remembering at least to whisper, though there was no one directly beside them.
    One eyebrow slid upward. “A little above middle height,” Val Con acknowledged, lips twitching. “For a Liaden.”
    He glanced across the room to where Emrith Tiazan stood talking to tel’Vosti and a youngish woman with carroty hair piled high on her head. “We to the delm, now, cha’trez, to make our bows.”
    And to hear the results of the gene test. She sternly put down the rebellion in her stomach and walked head up at his side, fingers curled lightly around his wrist, trying to act like she didn’t notice the way conversation ebbed at their approach and picked up again, once they were past.
    “Is this a good idea?” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.
    “No, of course not,” Val Con muttered back and she almost laughed.
    Emrith Tiazan’s face saved her—half-relieved and half-approving, as if she’d expected them to show up for dinner in leathers. Miri felt a spurt of sympathy as she bowed respect for the host, Val Con bowing at the same instant.
    “Ma’am,” he said, soft voice pitched so that it carried across the still sea of redheads, “we offer thanks for the grace and care the House has shown us.”
    “It is the House’s honor,” the old woman said into the silence, “to guest its ancient ally and friend.” She looked up across the room then, and raised